


Training Miss Penelope - Monaco

by astridthecrafty



Series: Training Miss Penelope [1]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5936812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astridthecrafty/pseuds/astridthecrafty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before IR a certain young English Lady had lots to learn. Hopefully will become a series of events. Rated for mentions of gambling and alcohol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Miss Penelope - Monaco

*ttttrrrrrrr... chink...chink...chink... click*

The one-armed bandit rested on lemon-bell-plum. No payout this time, but had to be soon. Parker did his best nonchalent impression while sitting at the right angle to keep an eye on Miss Penelope at the Pontoon table. Their one-on-one practice was down perfect, and now it was time to try it out in the real world.

*ttttrrrrrrr... chink...chink...chink... click*

The young Lady Creighton-Ward's appearance was far from her normal. A bobbed brown wig and green contacts alone made such a difference. Her normally classy clothing had been swapped for a pink sequined cocktail dress that ... well let's just say that there wasn't enough toupee tape in the world to hide her "wares" in it.

From this distance she seemed to be doing quite well. Her pile of chips grew steadily but slowly enough to not raise suspicion. She'd taken to card counting like a duck to water. In his earlier life they could have made a killing, but he was completely on the straight and narrow now. Okay, well maybe not _completely_ , but there was very good reason for that.  
*ttttrrrrrrr... chink...chink...chink... click ... rattle*

Oh whoopy-do, a cherry. 5 credits. Bloody rip-off these machines.

The fat, balding, brandy drinking creep that had been ogling her from the bar finally plonked down in the vacant seat beside her.  
They played on, winning some, loosing others. Small talk, she was smiling and head tilting in the right places, the mark was hooked. He bought her drinks ... careful now Miss, too much alcohol results in mistakes.

*ttttrrrrrrr... chink...chink...chink... click*

Soon they were giggling away and Parker saw the creeps hand move to her knee and snake up her thigh under the table.

He was about to rise when noticed she'd brought out her compact. Angled towards him, a slow blink and tucking her hair behind her ear with 2 fingers. The sign she was still in control, so he let her run with it.

If he hadn't taught her the slight of hand to place the tracker under his jacket lapel he would never have seen it. Oh this young woman was good. He couldn't have been more proud if she was his own daughter.

*ttttrrrrrrr... chink...chink...chink... click*

She asked the croupier for a pen, scribbled something on the napkin from under her drink and slipped it over. Her companion blanched, screwed up the note, made his excuses and abruptly left. A deviation from the plan that had Parker mildly concerned, but the tracker task was done. He would retrieve the tech in the early morning, the housekeeper was wrapped around his finger and well paid off already.

A few more hands and Miss Penelope graciously smiled her goodnights to the table and took her chips to the desk to be cashed in. Parker on the other hand had lost most of the set allowance, bloody thievery of those contraptions.

He followed her to the lift and they got off at the prearranged floors in silence.

When he joined her to debrief curiosity was eating at him.

"Pardon me M'lady, but what on h'earth did you say to the chap to make 'im run off like that?"

She handed Parker the crumpled up paper ball, and winked. He flattened it and a childish giggle escaped.

"Don't give the game away when you reach my balls. Fotherington - MI5"


End file.
